


Cake

by agoodwoman



Series: Instinct Over Reason [3]
Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodwoman/pseuds/agoodwoman
Summary: With the 200th Episode party 15 years ago this month, I felt inspired by David saying he was an icing guy.





	Cake

When she started this job almost ten years earlier, she had no idea it would have changed her life so drastically. It started as a last-ditch effort to prove to her agent she was worth the attempts they had made to try to get her to be a working actress. After the audition with the X-Files, she would have been broke and homeless but for some reason, Chris pushed for her to stay.

After all that she had been through since then, she was mostly grateful for the chance she was given. Following the first year and risking everything for love and a baby, she had to prove herself worthy of that chance time and again. Without complaint, she put in the long hours that seemed cruel. She went back to work ten days after having a baby. For too long she put up with a misogynistic environment which allowed her to do the same work for half the pay. As things became clear she was worth the same monetary compensation as her tall and brooding costar, a competitive streak stirred through her and David. Suddenly people were commenting publicly and on set out of the two of them, who had what and how much attention the other was getting from the media.

Being sequestered in Vancouver was almost a blessing because the second she landed in Los Angeles for a visit, she realized how much she didn’t know about the Hollywood life that David revelled in. She thought it was just knowing where to stand on a mark or explaining to her patiently what being ‘picked up’ meant after manhandling her and pulling her around the Upfronts.

What had changed in her life since then was more than just location. Everything was different. Instead of driving a beat up VW that stunk of cigarettes and paint, she drove a pristine Audi convertible that fulfilled her need for a velocity over the limits of recommended speeds on highways. Instead of worrying about overstaying her welcome as she couch surfed between friends’ apartments, she owned a property on the oceanfront that her mother asked why she needed all that space. Rosemary was never one for ostentatious and sprawling properties but she just explained to her mother that she worked hard for that house. It seemed to put a stop to the disapproving clucking of her mother’s tongue.

Now, with the show ending, she wondered if she would keep the house or leave Los Angeles to get away from everything. She had been dying to do theatre in London but there were ties keeping her from wanting to uproot herself permanently.

It was hard when a place you came to on a whim never really felt like home. Not like the dreary city across the pond.

The knock on her trailer door brought her out of the thoughts she had found herself lost in.

“You in there?” a familiar voice called.

“Yeah,” she called back.

It was an obligatory exchange since after the press and interviews, he watched her walk off the soundstage towards her trailer.

The door opened and the trailer creaked and dipped with his weight as he stepped inside. Everything in Hollywood always appeared solid but it was all a facade.

“Hi,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “It’s just weird having you back here sometimes.”

He made a face and she could see an acerbic retort on the tip of his tongue he was holding back.

“What?” she asked, knowing full well if he said it, it could start a fight.

It was a 50/50 shot these days if he would. He told her it was easier if she was mad at him than the way she behaved towards him when she wasn’t. Apparently, when she wasn’t mad him, it made his desires harder to fight but that wasn’t her problem.

“Is this my CD?” he asked about the music playing softly from the player on the kitchen counter.

She nodded. “Maybe.”

“It shouldn’t be weird,” he said and she noticed he was holding something behind his back. “Unless you make those ‘another lover’ comments around me.”

She smirked. “You should explain nicely why that bothers you.”

His jaw tightened and shook his head slowly. “No, I think it’s pretty obvious why.”

It was an offhand comment she made to a journalist about the presence of her new costar and her former costar on set at the same time. The men were posturing around each other, sizing each other up and David was acting strangely territorial for a show he deemed beneath him. Robert had the sense to understand a good paycheque when he saw one and came into work every day with a smile on his face.

David shook his hand in front of the press as they stood on either side of her and she couldn’t have felt more uncomfortable unless she was back

“I’m not jealous of your wife,” she told him. “Why should you be jealous of my other costar who is happily married?”

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffed.

She sighed. “Maybe you should try acting a little less jealous, then. You are an actor, right?”

“Such sass from a woman who I was trying to extend an olive branch to,” he quipped.

“Is that what that is?” she asked as she jutted her chin out towards him.

With a flourish, he produced a slice of cake. A corner piece that they had cut together. There was a trail of icing missing on the edge where she had used her finger to slide the piece onto a plate. Without thinking, [she took her finger and popped it into David’s mouth](http://duchovny.net/morephotos2/200thep/ddga4.jpg). Instead of recoiling, he dove in for it and licked her fingers clean. The cameras and crew in the audience cheered at the gesture. She was sure he would pay for that display of public intimacy later at home but she hadn’t decided if she wanted to let that bother her or not.

“Is that for me?” she asked hopefully.

She had cut so many pieces and handed them out that when she looked to get one for herself, they were gone. She wondered what makeup artist or crew member he had to snag the slice from but when she asked him, he shook his head.

“You didn’t have to exchange nude Polaroids you keep in your back pocket for that?” she commented.

His cheeks pinked at the mention of a memento he meant for her but was found on the floor of the makeup trailer to his embarrassment. This was before he was married and things changed a little for them. When she was married, he was less than respectful of the bounds of the ring she wore, including holding her tightly and touching her tenderly in front of the man she fell in love with.

She felt saddened about the hurt feelings they caused by their lack of ability to respect personal space and boundaries. That guilt was as fleeting as the moments that caused the hurt.

“Have one afternoon of fun recreating something embarrassing and you won’t let that go,” he laughed.

It was embarrassing for both of them but she somehow got away from being fingered as a partial culprit with the nude Polaroids of the man standing in front of her.

“I rarely get to have one up on you when it comes to public embarrassment,” she noted as she sat down on the couch with a sigh.

“Not public since I had to buy some very nice presents for those who saw it to keep their mouths shut,” he told her and she threw her head back and laughed. “I can’t believe my humiliation is what it takes to get you to laugh these days. It used to be my jokes.”

“Your jokes were _usually_ about sex,” she reminded him as he sat down next to her.

“They still made you laugh,” he pointed out. “And you made some yourself. That one in the elevator was just hilarious.”

She sighed as she recalled what was hilarious at the time and hopefully never known to the public in an outtake during their first year on set. After they called cut and she didn’t think the cameras were still rolling, she sunk down to squat in front of him and pretended to swallow his cock whole. He furthered the joke by zipping up his fly when she was done. These antics, among many others, made it difficult for them to continue claiming they weren’t friends. It was an arranged work marriage that was awkward at times, painful and yet they had an understanding with each other no one else could comprehend. She could find him hilarious at 8:15 a.m. at the beginning of the day, hate him by lunch and be naked in his trailer by 5:45 p.m. The last part they had managed to keep their dirty little secret and tried to avoid such instances since he got married. Tried being the operative word.

They were asked about their personal lives enough as it was now and the state of their friendship or lack thereof. It didn’t help matters when they were pictured together, people went crazy. They had avoided joint interviews as much as they could, especially for television where their ability to control the chemistry between them wasn’t possible.

“I thought so,” she said quietly but the smile on her lips betrayed the seriousness of the tone she was attempting.

He picked up the only plastic fork on the plate he was holding and skewered part of the fluffy confection onto the tines. “It made me hard.”

She watched as he moved the fork towards her mouth slowly. She spoke softly, “I remember.”

The fork was about to reach her lips when he turned it around and took the bite instead.

“Hey!” she cried out and he laughed with a mouth full of the cake.

She quickly grabbed for the plate but he was too fast and jumped up before she could reach it. They stood on either side of the small coffee table that she had brought in last week. It took up too much space and she wanted it gone but it was one of those instances of not looking like a spoiled actress to ask for it to be taken out so soon. It was standing between her and the cake right now. Sure, David was holding the cake but she wasn’t so concerned about him.

He held the cake to his side and took another forkful on the other side of his body. He looked like a sacrificial icon but instead of a crown of thorns, he held cake and stood with a slight bulge in his pants.

“What are you going to do, Red? Come over here and get it?”

“Don’t!” she cried out as he took another bite. “Ugh… you can’t call someone _Red_ if their hair isn’t naturally red.”

“What do I call you then?” he teased through a mouthful of cake. He licked the icing off his lips but a small smear of the creamy treat remained. “Mousy brown? Hey, that could be your porn-detective name. _Mousy Brown is a bad ass detective who is street smart and sexy._ ”

She shook her head. “I’m not laughing at that.”

“You could fight crime with your partner, Pussy Peach,” he said with delight. “I think I might have something here.”

She rolled her eyes and stomped her foot with the same emphasis she wasn’t happy as a small child. “Da-viiiiiid!”

She whined it and it wasn’t cute or sexy but she didn’t care. He laughed at her anyway because that seemed to be the thing he did these days. She felt anger boiling up inside of her along with the frustration of wanting something she previously hadn’t cared about. That could have been a metaphor for their entire relationship.

“Why did you come in here with that if you weren’t going to let me have it?” she asked him as she put her hands on her hips.

“I was planning on letting you have it,” he told her, using her words laden with double entendre as he took another bite.

She told herself as he chewed on the cake and the sweet smell of it wafted towards her that she didn’t want it. She told herself that since she had been avoiding sugar, dairy and wheat that her body wouldn’t appreciate the shock to her system with even a bite.

“It’s just so good,” he said with a moan in his voice that she recognized from times they had fallen into bed together, that she had taken the length of his cock between her lips.

She should be kicking him out of her trailer so she could get ready to work that night but instead, she was with him, wanting to taste the sweet offering of his olive branch.

She licked at her bottom lip. “Let me have some, then.”

He made a face as he was obviously deciding if dangling the cake in front of her was fun enough or if he wanted to share.

“Say _please_ ,” he bartered and he licked more of the icing off his bottom lip.

She wanted to tell him to stop licking the icing off because she wanted to taste it on him too. A voice inside her head reminded her that she shouldn’t be thinking those things about him. He wasn’t hers, he never was and wanting to taste buttercream frosting on the lips of a man who didn’t belong to you were all dangerous thoughts that led her down untoward paths.

“Please,” she whispered and he smiled.

He stuck the fork in the top of the cake and took four steps around the coffee table to turn her to stand with her back to the door. As he pulled her to sit on the table, he knelt in front of her.

“Open,” he prompted innocently as he dug into the cake with the fork. He held the cake inches away from her mouth. “Don’t you want some? It’s sweet.”

She raised an eyebrow in skepticism that mirrored her on-screen alter ego. “I do.”

“Close your eyes,” he instructed and the eyebrow arched further. “No funny business, I promise.”

Funny business could mean a multitude of things with them. 

He placed the fork back on the plate and crossed his heart with his free hand. Reluctantly, she closed her eyes and opened her lips slowly.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he mumbled and she heard the plastic scrape against the paper plate.

The sweet cake filled her olfactory senses and she licked her bottom lip in preparation. It had been too long since she had tasted something with this many calories in one bite and she felt herself salivate at the prospect of something so bad for her entering her body.

“Wider,” he whispered and she felt his finger touch her lips with the icing on the tip.

Her lips wrapped around his finger and she paid the same attention to licking the icing that he had paid in front of a crowd of photographers. She couldn’t grab his face and taste the dessert off his mouth there with everyone watching. They had already made a spectacle of themselves so she laughed, spoke with Annabeth and Robert, hugged Chris and left the soundstage as soon as her assistant gave her the nod.

“How does it taste?” he asked as he pulled his finger from her lips.

She licked at the icing he left on the edge of her mouth and opened her eyes. “Better than I remember.”

He licked at the icing on his knuckle and she watched his mouth.

This was dangerous. What they were doing here together was a bad idea and she needed him to leave, except she couldn’t muster the strength to resist him. He was a deep well of pleasures and pain that she fell willingly into time and time again without knowing where her way out was.

He looked at the black button down she had on and then down to the yellow and white slice on the black plate. He picked up the fork and scooped another bite to feed her.

“Just one,” she told him and he narrowed his eyes to ask why. “I shouldn’t… this is full of sugar.”

He knew she was uncomfortable and fidgeted prior to their names being called, donning her jacket and pulling the sleeves down to hide more of herself. He had put a hand on her back as she stood with Annabeth and Robert to tell her they were up when Chris was calling them out individually. Of course, David had wanted them together to show some kind of united front. It felt like he was the son who went away to college but tried to act like the family hadn’t changed in his absence. She didn’t like that analogy since it made them siblings but Chris had been referring to them as a family all morning.

He smiled a little and reassured her, “You look great.”

She skewed her lips in doubt before she allowed him to slide the fork into her mouth. It was moist and not because of the buttercream icing. The butter she never allowed herself, the sweet candy of confectioner’s sugar and the hint of vanilla. There was little to this cake that her body was used to these days.

“Mmmm.”

Even she realized how sexual it sounded but she couldn’t help it. It was one of those moments when the taste of something so simple overwhelmed her.

“Good?” he asked.

She felt her cheeks grow hot and she nodded quickly. When she swallowed the cake she had let linger on her tongue, she said, “Yes.”

“It’s buttercream but a hint of _something_ else,” he said as he took a bite of the cake.

She watched as he chewed slowly to contemplate the flavour.

“Lemon,” she said quietly. “In the cake.”

David put another forkful into his mouth. “Mmmmm.”

She took two fingers and picked off a piece of the corner, digging with her nails down to the bottom to have another bite. She put half the piece between her teeth and the cake dissolved slowly onto her tongue.

“Do you taste it?” she asked.

He put her fingers in his mouth and cleaned off the rest of the icing and pastry from them. His mouth felt cool against her fingers that she had been washing with hot water after the celebration. She had told herself that when they were allowed to leave, she could work off building frustrations at the gym or on the beach. Instead, she was there and feeling a tingling in her belly as they ate cake in the quiet of her trailer with soft music playing in the background.

 _“You could have been_  
_Anyone to me,_  
_Before that moment_  
_You touched my lips_  
_That perfect feeling_  
_When time just slips_  
_Away_ between _us_  
_On our foggy trip,”_

Neil Young was not the music to listen to while trying to tell yourself not to sleep with your married costar. He was the man to remind you of feelings you had and that you shouldn’t have them.

“I always liked this album,” he said as he set the cake on the table next to her. He put his hands on either side of her hips and moved between her knees. He glanced down at the V of her blouse again and up to her face. “Did you steal this from my trailer?”

“No,” she lied and then sighed. “Yes. I must have missed you for some reason.”

“I missed you too but I’m not listening to indie rock chick music,” he said with a smile as he moved closer to her.

She made a face. “What is it that you don’t like about those women? That they don’t find your sexist jokes charming or that the majority of them prefer to sleep with women?”

“Sleeping with other women is cool - that seems to be more mainstream these days. It’s the jokes thing mostly,” he quipped. “You know how a woman laughing turns me on.”

That she knew was true. She tried to fight the giggles when he was around and not laugh at his jokes when she was doing her best to keep herself out of his bed. Except against her better judgement, she did laugh at some of his jokes and they both knew how much he found that to be irresistible.

“Don’t you have a wife to laugh at your jokes now?” she said as she tried to scoot away from him on the table.

His hands found her backside quickly and he pulled her towards his hips. She gasped at the contact and wished she wasn’t as turned on as she was but there they were.

“Don’t bring her into this,” he said. “Your laugh gets me hard every time and you know that. You know everything about me.”

She felt her sex throb and she didn’t realize that it was possible to be this aroused by cake and icing. “Likewise. Unfortunately.”

The hardness of his desire was pressing into her and she wanted to grind against him until she saw stars. A true patron for delayed gratification, she resisted the urge.

His hand left her backside and she glanced over as he dipped his finger into the edge of the cake.

“No more,” she said with a shake of her head.

She felt younger than her years, inexperienced and new to everything when they had quiet moments together like this. Something about his presence created an insecurity in her that bubbled up and she wondered if he still saw her as the young woman who didn’t know what a mark was or if she had finally earned her respect as an actress. It was hard to say when he commented in the media that he didn’t watch her work outside of the X-Files.

She held her lips tight and he smeared the icing across them anyway.

“Don’t lick them,” he instructed.

It bothered her that she wasn’t pushing him away and that she wanted to move the crotch of her pants up and down on the hardness in his jeans. It irked her even more that she was wet from such a simple gesture as cake being fed to her.

“I want to taste it on your mouth,” he said quietly as though there was someone else in the room and he was sharing a secret only with her. “I’m an icing guy and I need to know how this tastes on some of my favourite things.”

“Things?” she repeated as the icing clung to her mouth.

He leaned forward and took her bottom lip between his teeth. She fought a whimper but one escaped her mouth into his anyway. He licked the icing off before releasing her mouth and studied her as he decided the flavour.

“It tastes better on you than the cake,” he said finally and she exhaled with a wavering breath. “But I like to have all the information I possibly can before deciding anything.”

Without thinking, her tongue swiped at her top lip and removed the sugary cream he had wiped there.

“What do you think?” he asked her as his fingers worked on the buttons of her blouse. The shirt cut into a deep V at her breasts and the top fastening was at a dangerous position. “It tastes good on you, doesn’t it?”

“I liked how it tasted on your fingers,” she admitted.

She could see him obviously contemplating putting it on other appendages and the look they shared inspired a laugh.

She was flushed and her sex throbbed. She wanted to keep their sexes aligned but she knew he needed space to undo her shirt. Someone else removing your clothing was always sexier than when you did it yourself unless the point of undressing in front of another person was to tease and tantalize.

Once, she slowly took off her pastel suit with the zeal and expertise as one of those women at the clubs he liked to frequent after a long day at work. She didn’t have anywhere to be and somehow he ended up in her trailer, watching her undress and fucking her over the kitchen table before she fully took off her blouse.

If anyone had walked in on them then, it would have looked like Mulder and Scully finally bursting the damn of unresolved sexual tension that too many people obsessed over. She didn’t blame them for obsessing over it. Dana Scully needed to be fucked properly and she assumed by now that Mulder should be the one to do it since her character had his baby. Too bad they never filmed the consummation scene. That might have actually made Chris lose his mind.

He undid one of the buttons at the bottom of her blouse and his hot hand pressed against the skin of her stomach. His eyes smiled at her as he said, “I missed the way you feel.”

Right now they couldn’t look more like themselves in denim and black after making speeches to the crew to praise all their hard work. They stood pressed together and cut the cake with Chris before he volunteered them to cut and portion the cake for everyone to enjoy. She wondered if that was just more territorial posturing around Robert.

“What are we doing?” she asked as another button on her blouse came free. “I have to be in wardrobe soon.”

She wasn’t sure why she was talking him out of undressing her because beneath the fabric of her black trousers, she was aching for him to be inside her.

“We’re going to make up for missed time,” he told her as his lips brushed against her cheek. His hips pushed against hers again and she moaned. “I want you so badly, Gillian… Say it’s okay if I kiss you.”

Oh, God, she thought. He hadn’t even kissed her yet and she felt the pangs of fragmented longing twinge inside of her.

He had never questioned whether she would want him or not. This was the first time she ever heard a hint of doubt and maybe he could sense her apprehension to what they were doing. She wanted to be strong enough not to want him but maybe her willpower didn’t have the resolve she thought it did.

“It’s okay,” she whispered and his mouth covered hers in an exquisite fulfillment of yearnings that lay dormant until she saw him that morning.

His lips pushed against hers as his fingers continued to work on the buttons of her shirt. When his tongue stroked hers, another button came apart. As his teeth brushed against her lips, she felt herself shudder.

His hand thread through her hair at the base of her neck and he pulled gently on her head to tilt her mouth up to him a little more. They moaned as they kissed fervently and she wondered if it was possible to come from a slow grind and the taste of buttercream on her lips.

He pulled her towards him and flipped her onto the lush carpeted floor of her trailer. It was softer under her back than previous trailers they had fucked inside of. Compared to the threadbare flooring of her trailer on the pilot, the upgrade she had after she renegotiated her contract and then to now, this model she was given for the last year of work was quite lovely. The carpet under her back wasn’t as soft as a bed, but they never were much for convention when it came to each other.

He reached behind him and set the cake on the floor next to her head and she widened her eyes as she realized what he was about to do. He took a piece between his fingers and dragged the frosting up her belly from the ring in her navel and towards her bra.

He placed the cake on her chest between her breasts above the clasp and popped open the small fastening. He took off his blue sweater and black tee underneath. He put his hands on either side of her torso and smiled at her.

“I think the last time I ate food off your body it was that chocolate body paint some fan sent me,” he said as he leaned down to take a nibble from the bottom edge of the cake.

She remembered that well. A story came out of his appreciation to exotic dancers and suddenly women were sending him paraphernalia from sex shops. Some of it was pretty good stuff but she didn’t imagine these women’s motives were for him to use any of these things on her.

His mouth moved across her chest and closed over her nipple. A sigh escaped her lips as his teeth and tongue worked at her breast. The sigh became a moan and he leaned on one elbow to move his other hand up to her face to cover her mouth.

When his lips left her body, he kissed the place under her breast. “People could hear.”

“Turn up the music on the stereo,” she instructed.

He looked around them and then reluctantly got off of her. He walked over to the stereo where Neil Young’s whiny voice rang out from the speakers and he pointed at the machine. “Will this be a signal you want to be alone to the outside world because you’re a big time Hollywood actress who’s show is ending?”

She shrugged and sat up to shed her blouse and bra on the couch. “I don’t know what music says _fuck off_ that also inspires wanting to fuck.”

He grinned. “Where’s your Radiohead?”

“Over there,” she said pointing to the sleeve on the other end of the kitchen counter. “It’s on a mix CD on the front page.”

He found the disc inside the binder and changed the music. Puddle of Mudd was first on the album and his eyebrows shot up. “Blurry? Who’s CD is this?”

“This is a step down from punk rock,” she pointed out as she sat up on the couch with her clothing in hand.

He never was a fan of the hard, body bashing mosh pits that she seemed to appreciate in her youth but he lived a much more privileged childhood than she did. He didn’t go through the trials and suffering she did when she had to welcome two much younger siblings while trying to figure out where she fit into a society that liked her as an outsider on conditional terms. David grew up smart, well-read, liked by his peers and often times was a playful bully to his classmates if they couldn’t keep up with his group of friends. Gillian’s friends would have probably kicked the shit out of his and then drank whiskey from the bottle to up the act of being a rough crowd.

“We can’t all have troubled childhoods that make us interesting, Gillian,” he told her as he picked up the cake from the floor. He sat on the coffee table across from her and set it next to him. She sat against the back of the couch in a posture that mimicked something out of a sullen kid at the back of a classroom. “Some of us had to listen to easy rock and study for the SATs.”

“I feel like that’s a real asshole thing to say,” she said as she swiped at the icing on her chest with her index finger. She sucked the remnants off the pad of her digit and hummed. “I had to study for the SATs to get into Du Paul.”

“I like it when you throw in that you’re a trained actress compared to the rest of us that are just faking it,” he laughed as his hand reached out to the spot above her belly button where a dollop of icing was sitting above the gold ring through her skin.

“You fake it pretty well,” she pointed out as she watched his finger clean off a section of her tummy. “For an egghead.”

“I thought you liked my head,” he commented.

“I like both of them,” she teased.

He held up the finger with icing on it and she pulled on his wrist to bring it to her lips.

“Is this going to hurt my feelings later?” he asked in a teasing manner and she raised an eyebrow in question. “I just mean… am I going to read about you and some other guy in the tabloids later this week going to some AIDS walk for dogs where you’re seen kissing and canoodling?”

“You’re pretty possessive for a man who is married to someone else,” she said and put his finger in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the tip before she pulled her head back.

“Could you not do that with your tongue right now?” he asked.

She smiled but she was starting to feel annoyed. “We’re shirtless and discussing feelings. Is that what’s going on right now?”

He shook his head and ran his hands down his face. “I’m rock hard and I want to fuck your brains out but I just want to know if you decided whether or not about leaving.”

She sighed. “Oh, that.”

She had told him at the beginning of the calendar year she was moving to London. If this was his attempt to keep her there so she could be some kind of mistress to him while being turned down for movie after movie, he could forget it. She had a play lined up, one that she really cared about, and a house to furnish.

“Yeah, that,” he said. “You’re _really_ going?”

“I’m keeping my place here for now,” she reminded softly as his hands wrapped around her calves by her knees. He pulled her towards him and buried his face in the crook of her neck. “What’s going on?”

“I think I’m actually going to miss you,” he admitted.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she replied dryly but her heart ached a little bit at the outpour of emotion from a man who was normally glib.

“I said it to a few of the grip guys earlier in my trailer while we did a circle jerk but this time I really mean it,” he teased as he moved away slightly.

She laughed. “Is that why they were all cheering for you after your speech?”

His fingers danced up her naked back and he shrugged. “Maybe. I know how to play to a crowd. Who doesn’t like a good circle jerk?”

She laughed again. “Who did you do it to and who did it to you?”

“Is hearing about this doing anything for you?” he asked hopefully and she nodded. “Oh, okay. Well then it was Kevin the dolly grip guy to me and I was yanking on Mitch.”

She made a face at the picture of them standing around, the men slightly sweaty with their shoulders bumping into each other. “You know how to throw a party.”

“I’m all about fun,” he whispered in her ear before kissing her again. "I like to keep camaraderie _up_ , if you know what I mean."

He pushed his body on top of hers and flattened her out on the deep couch. The sticky cake dissolved between their bodies and she didn’t mind the mess at this point. The hardness of his desire was pushing against her hip and she adjusted under him so their sexes were aligned.

He pushed against her once and she saw stars behind her eyes. His tongue slid against hers in her mouth and she could taste the familiar essence that was David. The smell of his cologne filled her nose and she felt a tingling in her belly intensify.

He kissed like someone whose life depended on it - like all further sexual experiences would be allowed or disallowed by the performance of his lips and tongue. He didn’t kiss her like it was a precursor to sex. He kissed her like it was the sex.

She disrupted the kiss as his hips began pumping against hers and she turned her head towards the coffee table. His mouth travelled down her throat while his hand closed over her breast.

This was going to end up with hurt feelings but it wouldn’t be just his alone. She was going to feel badly about this as soon as they came. In the upcoming months, every time she saw a cake she would have another memory of another secret rendezvous. Except she was willing to risk that feeling of guilt and shame later on for this moment together.

They never seemed to learn their lesson. The times they met in covert locations over the last ten years were never something they discussed openly. It was a dirty secret and she had too many discussions with different therapists about why she continued to let herself feel that way.

Moving to London was supposed to sever those ties and the hold they had on one another. As long as she was in Los Angeles, he could make grand gestures with presents that couldn’t be explained to anyone outside of her inner circle. No one she confided in could blame her for trying to extract herself.

He was like intoxicants she didn’t trust herself with. Every time they fell back in bed together, it was a relapse.

His fingers pinched her nipple and she was brought back to their precarious situation on the couch. He could always sense how she was feeling, where her head was at and how she was handling their surroundings.

“Hey,” he whispered as he ground himself against her. “No waxing internal poetics while I’m trying to fuck you.”

“What about later?” she asked with a smile as she reached her outer arm for the cake. “Should I wallow during the shoot?”

“We have those jail scenes coming up,” he reminded her. “You can hate me through shitty monologues.”

“I don’t hate you,” she whispered. With two fingers and her thumb, she pinched a piece and smeared it across his face. “I just really wish I never slept with you.”

He looked hurt for a moment and then he started laughing. “You’re _such_ a fucking liar.”

She laughed too as she licked the icing off her fingers and he took her wrist and ate bits of the cake off her hand.

“That’s almost the whole truth,” she said but she wasn’t sure how much of it was.

He pushed his cake covered face into her chest and his hand was replaced by taking her nipple into his mouth. He released the nub with a pop.

“Do you really?” he asked as he moved across her chest, making her skin more sticky with the icing to kiss the other breast. “Why would you say that?”

“That’s a loaded question,” she breathed as he kissed the underside of her breast and moved up until he reached her nipple. “Maybe because we both know it’s wrong?”

"It wasn't wrong the first time," he countered.

"You had a girlfriend," she reminded him of the woman he was pretty serious about at the start of the series.

He shrugged and removed his mouth from her chest to slide his body down hers. His mouth left a trail of sticky kisses until it reached the edge of her pants.

“What’s right and what’s wrong is subjective,” he said. “Having sex with you is like poetry or something ethereal and some shit.”

She watched as his fingers looped into the waistband of her trousers. He began to shimmy them down her hips. He tossed them over his shoulder and then removed her socks. He stared at her as she lay on the soft couch underneath him with just a thong bikini on.

“Is this one I bought you?” he asked with a grin as he maneuvered himself to stand next to the couch.

“I said I missed you,” she replied quietly but her face flushed to give away she might have been hoping he would see it.

He reached for his belt but she sat up quickly to help him with it. He smiled as she worked on the mechanism and undid the button and fly on his jeans next.

“What was I saying?” he asked as she tugged his jeans and boxers down his waist. He kicked them off when they reached his feet and he looked down to her on the couch with her face in line with his cock. “Oh yeah. The pleasures your body makes my body feel and likewise, vice versa, et cetera I’m rambling because holy shit your hand on my dick feels so good-”

She released his cock for a moment and stood up on the couch so they were eye to eye.

“Why did you stop that?” he asked.

“You were going to convince me this was a good idea, remember?” she mentioned as she put her hands on her hips.

He hooked his thumbs into the black thong around her waist and pulled them down her legs. “I’ll make this as simple as I can. Your body makes my body feel good. Your body excites my body and it’s all mutual. Right?”

She sighed.

“Right?” he questioned again.

“Yes, to all of those things,” she replied. “But… What about people we hurt?”

He shook his head. “No one is getting hurt unless you want me to make it sting a little.”

She didn’t believe him that there weren’t hurt feelings at his house just as they hurt people in her life by doing this. If only they could stop. If only she could look at him and not want to ride his face until she sang like an opera singer hung on to the notes of a ballad.

His hands smoothed along the skin of her legs and his right hand moved between them. As he reached the apex of her thighs but remained an inch away from her sex, she felt her belly clench in anticipation. His mouth covered her breast as his hand clenched at the meat of her inner thigh. His thumb extended up to brush along the seam of her lips where they met.

“I feel how wet you are,” he noted with his mouth hot against her skin. “I don’t think you’re worried about much right now.”

She had a sharp intake of breath as the pad of his thumb expertly circled her clit. The man’s dexterity was a bonus on top of everything. He somehow was able to make her forget the rest of her life outside the space they were in.

“I’m really not,” she said with a laugh as his thumb moved from her clit to the outside of her pussy. “You…. oh….”

His thumb pushed up inside her and she clenched her muscles around him.

“You?” he asked as he flexed his thumb back towards the front wall of her sex. “You were saying?”

She moved her hips up and down on his hand while she reached between them to stroke his member again.

“ _You_ were saying?” she replied with a grin.

He pulled his hand from her sex as he grabbed her around the waist and walked her with her legs around him through the trailer and towards the bed. She buried her face in his shoulder as she laughed but really her heart was pounding. This was the kind of fun she lost herself in. The spontaneous, reckless and adventurous sex that took place in the middle of the day with press wandering the Fox lot. They were begging to be caught at this point.

They certainly weren’t doing their best to maintain a secret. There had been many times when he had done something extravagant to solicit the truth from coming out. He got into the habit of sending her bra and panty sets that he audaciously purchased on his credit card, in person, and had them delivered to her on set or at home. She didn’t know what it said about her that she liked it when he did that, even more so that she wore them.

The thong he had pulled from her body was just one of many in her dresser drawer that he had sent her way since that story hit the tabloids about her sitting with her legs open on set. The picture was manufactured but they were right, she had on pale pink panties that day she was shot but he wasn’t supposed to know that. He was such a self-assured prick and yet, she was anxiously anticipating being fucked senseless by him.

He stopped as they reached the back of the trailer and looked at the makeup station that was there instead of a bedroom.

“Where the fuck is the bed?” he asked as he spun them around slightly.

“I don’t have one of those in here,” she told him. “I don’t have a young child napping in here five days a week anymore.”

He made a disappointed face and he adjusted her in his hands. “Why didn’t you say anything before I picked you up?”

“I don’t mind this right now,” she laughed as she gestured to how he was holding her.

“I guess you’re getting fucked on the couch then,” he said with a grunt and saw the small table that was supposed to be used for makeup and hair. “This will do.”

He set her down on the table and it didn’t move under her weight. With his foot, he slid the chair further behind him and kissed her cheek.

“Here?” she asked as she looked at the proximity to the door.

“I’ll do round two in the shower,” he offered as he aligned their sexes. “You’re all sticky.”

She leaned forward and licked some of the cake off his chest. “So are you.”

He rubbed the head of his cock against her swollen lips and began the long stroke of pushing inside her tight walls. They groaned in unison before reaching for each other’s mouths to silence the sounds of their coupling. Their hands moved down as the moaning subsided. Her fingers gripped the edges of the countertop and he put one hand on the mirror behind her while the other held her in place.

“Fuck, you’re _tight_ ,” he groaned as he thrust once. “So good.”

Her body adjusted to his as he caught his breath and she realized he was as worked up as she was. It was nice to know that she had the similar effect on him that he had on her.

He told her enough times but witnessing it with her own eyes as he clenched his jaw and stared at her with adoration was something else. If she looked too long into his eyes, she might lose herself there. She might forget why she was trying to extract herself from Los Angeles and push herself to work in the field of acting that she had originally hoped for.

Television was supposed to pay the bills. Now it could pay the bills while she did West End plays for little money and she didn’t have to worry about if there was enough food for the month.

She had to keep that in mind as he began a slow and hard thrusting motion inside her walls. She had to remember that this was temporary, that he was someone else’s husband and he could never be hers outside of these fleeting moments together.

Romantic gestures aside, he was not meant for her as she was not meant for him. She had to tell herself that before and after each orgasm because with sex that good, what else could you possibly need?

He thrust harder than the last and nipped at her shoulder. “Hey. Look at me.”

She dragged her line of sight up his chest and to his face. “I’m here.”

“You were somewhere else,” he pointed out as he kissed her cheek. “Just be here with me.”

He slammed into her again and she closed her eyes.

“Don’t make it hurt too much,” she breathed as he paused between thrusts.

The man was hung like a prize horse. If he stood on his head, fully erect, the man would look like an upper case F with his long feet.

“I’ve missed _this_ ,” he whispered as he pushed all the way inside and ground his pelvis against hers. “I miss how you feel when I make you come.”

He spoke to her in hushed tones like these were the sincere secrets privy to only them. It was unfair how good and how bad he could make her feel but even more so, how much she wanted it.

He pulled on her hips and put her feet on the ground to spin her to face the mirror.

“Hold on and watch,” he whispered as he pushed up in a long hard thrust into her.

“ _Oh_!” she cried.

With his left hand gripping her hip, she could feel the absence of his wedding ring around his finger. She wondered if that was an intentional act on his part or if he frequently went out without his ‘collar’ on.

His right hand slipped down her belly and to her centre to find her clit. His middle finger found the moisture from her arousal and spread it generously around her sex.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she groaned as his hand began the quick movements to help her find her release.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he whispered as he steadied his hips to even and quick thrusts. “Watch us.”

She pulled her head up and opened her eyes to see her reflection. Fiery red hair with cake tangled in parts. Her alabaster skin was marked from his mouth along her neck and collarbone and her breasts bounced with each connection his hips had against her backside. His jaw was slack as he watched them. There was icing on his tanned face and his arms where she could see and if there was going to be a round two, she was glad he offered her the shower.

Her inner lips began to swell and he growled at the further tightening around his cock. His finger sped up, knowing more friction could only help her come harder and faster. She held her hands onto the mirror as he slammed into her repeatedly and she stopped caring about keeping quiet or maintaining their secret.

He must have felt the same because he moaned loudly and called her name. “Oh, Gillian, fuck!”

“Someone will hear,” she reminded him.

Truthfully, she didn’t care. Not when the build up inside of her was so intense and she felt the orgasm about to soar through her nervous system and release the endorphins of ecstasy that she so desperately needed.

“Fuck. Them.” He grunted. “Let. Them. Hear. Us.”

His words were punctuated with a thrust. He was pushing past what was comfortable and hitting her cervix. If the trailer wasn’t rocking from their actions before, it certainly had to be jostling slightly now. Or maybe she was just spinning from the overload of sugar and sex.

“C’mon Gillian,” he urged her as he pushed harder. “Fuck you’re so sexy. I need you to come for me.”

He was rambling in that soft, sexy speech that indicated he could be close. She was too but not quite.

She turned her face to his and he kissed her. She slammed her hand on the desk and pulled her mouth back to try to hold back the sound of the chasm of blatantly reckless and loud sex that resulted in the utmost pleasure.

“Fuck,” she squeaked as his finger pushed against her inner lips that were gripping his cock.

Gillian closed her eyes and turned her head back to watch their bodies move in unison. They were both starting to develop a sheen of sweat on their foreheads and the air in the room that had cooled her skin when she arrived was dewy around them from their actions.

Their eyes made contact and she felt the release she had needed since he walked onto the Fox lot that morning with an air of arrogance. He had changed a little since getting married and moving back to Los Angeles but not by much. He was all ego and there was too much about that one trait that drove her crazy. It was off-putting but also alluring. Their relationship and ultimately their attraction was a contradiction.

As her moans filled the room, she felt the fire of her release burn through her. Her elbows collapsed and she pushed her head onto her forearms to catch her breath. But she was still coming. As if he was feeling her contractions, he stopped moving for a moment as she continued to ride it out. He rocked his hips against hers and she felt him throb and twitch inside her.

As she felt herself begin to come down from her high, she looked up and he pulled out of her abruptly. David took her by the hand to the shower and turned it on. They were going to finish things in the wide corner shower, sloppy and wet with evidence of their coupling left on the couch but off their skin.

She turned her back to the entrance as the water warmed up and she pulled his face down for another kiss. With their mouths still tasting the icing on their lips, they stepped into the shower. She felt the water begin to wash away the flour, eggs, sugar and butter that started this encounter from their skin.

When the kiss broke, David grabbed the harsh loofah from the small caddy that hung from the shower head. His cock was poking into her stomach as she took the soap and began to lather up his chest then down to his member. His hands gripped her upper arms as she used the lather to create an easy stroke for her palm along the silky skin of his dick.

His eyes closed and she smiled to herself when he put his free hand flat against the smooth fibreglass. She liked to make him weak as he made her. She liked to see his jaw go slack and his eyes roll back in ecstasy. She wasn’t always able to best him in a verbal sparring match or outwit him in the press but she could get him to shut up in private with a few expert strokes along his flesh.

“Your hands feel too good,” he said as he pushed the loofah against her wrist.

He moved her against the wall of the shower and pulled her leg up around his waist while he aligned his dick to enter her again. The water was pouring down from the shower head between their bodies. In ten days, this trailer would be cleaned and belong to someone else. The company would loan it out to another young actor or actress who would not be privy to the acrobatics that took place here between them.

The water had removed the last evidence of their foreplay that was unconventional but sexy as hell. The lather and soap had fallen to their feet and all that was left between them was the moisture of her sex and the hardness of his desire.

He pushed inside with one long stroke and she closed her eyes as her body adjusted to the sensation of him at this angle. He rocked against her before starting a hard, fast rhythm. Each lunge was punctuated with a grunt from his chest and a soft cry from her lips.

She pushed her foot into the corner of the shower where the glass met the wall for leverage. She used her leg to push against him in a downstroke and he grunted in appreciation.

“You’re going to make me come,” he whispered as he looked down to where their bodies were working together.

She knew why he was telling her. Usually they used a prophylactic in times like these, however, there was not one present for them to rely on to prevent a whoops neither of them could explain to even their closest friends.

“It’s okay,” she whispered as he continued to pump in and out.

“What if-” he asked.

“I won’t,” she vowed before he could finish the thought. “I’m covered.”

She had gotten herself on a regular form of birth control after their last hasty encounter. Even though she told him the last time was the last time, as she had so many other times before, if she fell back into old patterns, she wanted to be sure she was protected. She reminded herself bitterly that her own reputation and protection of her name shouldn’t be the first thing she thought about with a lover. She had always hoped she could extract herself from the tangled web of lies they had laid out to people in their lives unscathed.

Maybe if you were fucking someone else’s husband, you deserved to be scorched a little bit. They were trying to be a family and she was an interloper who kept falling into bed with him. Almost ten years ago, he was the interloper who landed in her bed time after time. Perhaps that was the thing she wanted the most - to be called out on her shameful activities.

He kissed her with the fervour and heightened emotions that only she felt with him. After her divorce, they had spent a few weeks together and she almost lost herself in the sensations and pleasures brought by his talented tongue and hands. Maybe she preferred him when he wasn’t completely free to be hers because losing herself to him wasn’t something she felt comfortable doing.

His hands moved over her body and grabbed her flesh under the hot water as he continued to press his lips against hers. His mouth would open and their tongues would meet every few thrusts. At this angle, his cock was sliding against her clit and she felt herself beginning to climb back up towards another climax.

His tan contrasted against her alabaster skin and she felt small in his hands. He was lean and toned yet his presence was still overwhelming. His cock filled her almost to the point of pain but it was the kind of misery she could get off on.

“You’re so sexy,” he panted. “I want you to come again.”

She felt close. She needed another release today. Something she could think back on when she moved far from here and missed the dysfunctionality of their awkward working relationship.

He continued to pump in and out of her, sliding his cock against her bundle of nerves and working her into a frenzy.

“ _Oh_!” she cried as she felt the sharp twinge inside and her walls clamping down.

He thrust hard inside and she felt their well-timed release as they came together.

It shot up from her womb and spread through her body to tingle across her skin like a chemical-induced high. He began pumping again and another burst of endorphins pushed through her system as he came inside her.

When the euphoria wore off and he extracted himself from her, she wondered who would make eye contact and speak first. Somehow that seemed to be a sign of the next few months of their relationship. If she looked for him first, he somehow had a one up on her as though he took it as a sign of neediness he wanted to quell.

While she gave in to her desires, he sought her out first. This wasn’t something she would have searched for with his family situation being as it was. They said they would be better than mid-afternoon fuck sessions like these but neither of them could live up to these promises.

He cleared his throat and she looked up from the space between their bodies to see his eyes searching for hers.

“No regrets this time,” he told her earnestly as he held her gaze. David picked up the loofah and soap from the shower caddy and began to massage the two together. “I mean it, Gillian.”

“Why not this time?” she asked.

This couldn’t be any different from the others they had together. They always had the wrong timing and never enough good intentions behind what they were doing without hurting other people.

“Because we don’t owe an explanation of what we are together to anyone else,” he told her and she scoffed. “I’ve come to realize what happens with us is chemical. It’s not something I want to fight myself from wanting.”

“That’s a dangerous statement when you have another child coming and I’m moving away,” Gillian replied quietly.

He winced at that reality check. “That makes us sound like a pair of assholes.”

“We are,” she said and stuck out her lower lip in a half-pout.

“It doesn’t change how I think we both feel,” he replied as he used the loofah across his chest. “I know I’m territorial about other men-”

“Which you shouldn’t be,” she interjected. “It’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair,” he agreed. “But I just want to protect you from someone like me and other than me misusing you.”

“Are you using me?” she asked but she was sure she knew the answer.

He massaged more soap into the loofah and washed it across her arms. “I haven’t considered it ‘using’ in a long time. I like to think of it as a part of our friendship. It makes us work better together. Remember when I thought the tension and frustration worked but all it did was make us angry?”

She tried to remember that they did consider themselves friends now and that was a big step. They had the least conventional friendship of all the other costars she knew. Theirs was a partnership that worked on a chemistry they couldn’t fight and when they tried, it only made things toxic between them. It would be easier to maintain a level of normality, whatever that was for people in their industry.

“This is not normal,” she said with a sigh as he washed down her legs.

“I don’t like normal,” he replied as he kissed her thighs. “Normal is what I have everywhere else even in Los Angeles. I like this side of my life that isn’t and you do too.”

As the remnants of their coupling fell down her leg to be washed away, she told herself this was far from fair but she supposed it was functional.

She took the loofah from his hand and rubbed the soap against it to create a lather. Avoiding the shower head on her hair, she turned her back to him and looked over her shoulder as she handed him the hard sponge.

“Wash my back?” she said coyly with a smile.

He laughed before he took the sponge back and began to scrub across her back. His free hand held on her hip and she felt his half-hardened flesh against her backside.

“Is that residual or new?” she asked as she glanced down her back to his groin.

He looked down at himself. “I don’t know. I think you make me half-hard all the time.”

She laughed and stuck her lower lip out again. “Just half?”

He kissed her shoulder and pushed himself against her backside. It wasn’t deflating in the slightest. “Don’t be so fucking cute right now, we have to be in hair and makeup in twenty minutes.”

She turned around and pushed him towards the wall before rinsing her body off. “Then I should get my clothes on and you should try to think of something else.”

He looked down at his cock to see that he was fully hard again and up to her. She left him to use the bathroom to properly clean herself off. When she came out of the stall, he was sitting on the couch with a towel underneath him. His hair was spiking up in all directions and he had a smile on his face that was full of hope and charm.

“One more for the road?”

It was impressive that it stood straight up, glistening and ready for her. It was inviting and tempting but they had work. Making the crew wait for actors cost the studio money but moreover, it made people resent her and she had enough of that in her life.

“Can that wait until we wrap tonight?” she asked as she tucked her towel around her body and approached him.

“I can do _a lot_ in seven minutes,” he promised. His fingers peeled the damp towel from her body and he pulled her to stand between his knees. “We can get it out of our systems before you leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she argued but her voice was weak while his tongue danced along her skin. “I’m trying to change my career.”

He pulled her onto his lap and she sunk down on him again. They felt _so good_ together. 

“Okay, but do this first.”

It was easy to abandon reasons why not when he fucked her so well. She pulled her hips up and sunk down slowly. She repeated the motion three more times with quiet moans escaping her lips. Just watching him hard for her made her excited and she didn’t need much to feel close.

This was what he did to her when it was just them. He made her forget clocks, obligations, friends and life outside of their trysts.

His mouth found her breast and he took her nipple with his lips as his right hand moved between her ass cheeks. He was careful not to interrupt her rhythm as she moved slowly up and dipped her pelvis forward on the downstroke.

He released her nipple with a pop and his head fell back as she rode him expertly. Up quickly, tilt forward and down slowly - the movements she utilized when riding a horse came in handy while fucking a man hung like one. She would laugh at the gross analogy but she was too busy manipulating her hips on him as his middle finger popped inside her asshole.

“Fuck!” she cried out and bit her lip to stop any more outbursts.

It took four more strokes until her release took over her body. She pushed down hard on his pelvis and came again while his middle finger stroked her back door. It was shattering and overwhelming as the first but more poignant for her because she truly believed this would be their last encounter. He let out a guttural moan and she watched him go slack-jawed. Her walls pulled at his cock and she felt him filling her again. His left hand pulled her head to his and he crushed her mouth in a bruising kiss.

As she tumbled down from the euphoria, she looked into his eyes to see him smiling at her. They were breathing heavily and she felt him stir inside her.

The smile was a surprise. She was expecting the other guy to emerge. She was used to the guy who did make her feel a little bad and maybe she needed that so she wouldn’t repeat these transgressions. They were hurting too many people because they didn’t belong to one another and perhaps they never would.

“What?” he asked as his eyes saw the doubt in hers.

“I’m just wondering where the other guy is,” she said as she carefully extracted herself off his lap.

She disappeared into the bathroom and when she emerged he was pulling on his jeans. He was tense and she could see him wrestling with saying something unkind. 

“I don’t know what you want from me, Gillian,” he said tersely as he zipped up his fly.

He was not mean but he was frustrated and tense with her. She knows to be more careful with that side of him as he is careful and patient with the anxious side of her.

“Nothing, I don’t want anything,” she answered automatically and he gave her a look. “I mean, I don’t expect anything. I know better.”

“Last time we…” he started and he left the button open on his jeans to rub his hands up and down his face. “Last time we did this, you told me not to be that other guy or we wouldn’t have this anymore. You told me not to be such an ass.”

She found her underwear next to the couch and pulled them up her waist. “Yes…”

“So… what the fuck?” David was more than annoyed with her.

She found her bra and put it on quickly. Arguing like this and being exposed was less sexy after the sex was over. She felt too vulnerable now.

“You agreed with me six years ago all this stuff we do together, the sex and whatever, is separate from relationships and marriage,” he reminded her. He picked up his shirt and held it in his hands as she pulled her black pants up her legs. “Do you want me to make you feel guilty?”

He knew her too well.

“No,” she said. “I don’t… I don’t want to feel guilty.”

“Then don’t,” he replied simply.

“But we _should_ feel bad,” she said.

He shook his head. “No, we shouldn’t. This might not be conventional or normal but fuck normal. Life isn’t about normal.”

“I think your-”

“If you say your wife I’m going to shake you,” he cut her off and she saw in his eyes he was mostly serious.

She sighed and put on her blouse. His hand stopped her when she pulled the bottom button towards the loop hole.

“Be honest,” she said. “Does any of this make you feel bad _at all_?”

He skewed his mouth to the side as he contemplated the question. “Not in the ways I think it makes you feel a little bad.”

She lowered herself onto the couch with her shirt open and he sat next to her. They were just inches away from where they had fucked wildly without inhibition. That seemed to be a metaphor for so much more in their lives.

“I like being with you,” he said as he rest his elbows on his knees and pulled his shirt through one hand. “But I need to be with you and not in the ways I’m with other people.”

The idea he was with other women besides her hurt a little but also made her feel absolved from her part in anything.

“I see,” she said and looked down at her shirt to button up again.

“Not like that,” he said and shook his head but put his hand on hers to stop her from securing her shirt. “I’m… I’m not explaining myself very well.”

She paused the button from looping through the hole and looked into his eyes. “Are you planning to come to visit me in London when you need me?”

“I might,” he said with a grin. “I don’t _mind_ the rain.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled at the joke. As she stood up to look for her socks and boots, he stood up but kept his shirt off. She could tell he wanted to make a comment.

“What?”

He grinned. “Not bad, right? Three times in one afternoon!”

She scrunched her eyebrows together. “Twice.”

He scoffed and she readied herself for his argument.

“There,” he pointed to the makeup counter. “There,” he pointed towards the bathroom. “And there,” he finalized as he pointed to the couch. “That’s three.”

“That’s twice. You came twice,” she said holding up two fingers.

“So?” he said. “You came three times. That’s what counts.”

“I came four times, I think,” she replied and he smirked. “But you came twice. So that’s twice.”

He shook his head. “Split the difference and call it three.”

“ _Twice_ ,” she said with finality.

“Want to make it three?” he said with a leer and began walking towards her. “Also, why the fuck don’t you have a bed?”

“We don’t have time and, because I don’t need one,” she said as his hands wrapped around her waist.

A knock at the door alerted they were needed. “Uh… G-guys?”

The jig was up that she wasn’t alone.

David put his T-shirt on and she disappeared around the corner and out of sight to fix her hair and face. He opened the door nonchalantly. The voice belonged to a PA with a red face and a clipboard.

“What’s up?” David asked casually.

She emerged from the back with her shirt buttoned up and saw the mess of the cake by the couch. Her resolve told her to keep it together and not give away anything. The PA stepped inside the space and she wondered if he could smell the sex in the air.

“Hair and makeup in ten?” the PA told them but sounded like a question.

David pointed a finger gun to him which was an asshole, Hollywood actor thing to do and she laughed.

“Ten,” Gillian confirmed.

The trailer door closed with a click and David looked at her with a smile.

“ _No_ ,” she said, already knowing what he was thinking.

“I want to make it a good three. Prime numbers are good for your Chi,” he said with a mock authority.

She laughed and waved her hand at him. “No. Twice is good.”

He donned his shoes and approached her in the trailer. Their height difference was more dramatic without her boots on and she needed to tilt her head back to look at him in the eye.

“Mark my words, I _will_ get three.”

She felt a flush overcome her. “We’ll see.”

He punctuated his departure with a kiss on the lips and left her to contemplate the challenge.


End file.
